


and i left my friends behind me

by wrennette



Series: Trashpile: A Compendium of Unfinished Fics [20]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Finn in the Clone Wars, Finn-centric, not TLJ compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 19:52:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14456541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: Finn, dressed in his ‘trooper armour for ~reasons~ falls through a plothole and into the Clone Wars.





	and i left my friends behind me

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song "I fought in a War" by Belle & Sebastian. 
> 
> I've been sitting on this story for about a year hoping it would get longer, alas, it did not. I personally headcanon Finn as Force sensitive and part of the reasoning for sending him to the past would be so he had some Jedi to learn from, but I never quite got that far, so it doesn't really factor into the story.

“The kriff is a shiny doing here?” someone called, and Finn turned, heart racing. No one was supposed to be here. This base had been abandoned recently, hence it being deemed an acceptable risk for him to mod some newly captured armour and do some recon. The idea was that some of his codes might still be functional, as the First Order was still in chaos after the destruction of Starkiller base. 

But those were - okay, not stormtroopers, although they passed the sniff test at first glance. But the armour was all wrong, and not only that, they’d defaced it with graphic markings in bright blue, each ‘trooper wearing an individualized design. No way Captain Chrome-dome would have let them get away with that, nor would Hux. Which meant - hell, Finn hadn’t the first idea what that meant. 

“Are they rolling out new armour?” someone else asked, the pair of troopers approaching. But they kept their weapons trained down, obviously not viewing Finn as a threat. And he could be. But he’d rather try and talk them out of their blind obedience to the Order. 

“Hey shiny, you got a name yet?” the ‘trooper with the pauldron asked. An officer then. And - and asking if he had a name. That was _not_ SOP. 

“Yeah, I’m Finn,” he said, careful not to stammer and give away his nerves, wondering if maybe - maybe the base was being used by deserters? If they used names and had personalized armour - maybe other ‘troopers had escaped too? The idea sent his heart soaring. He knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up. But - but the idea that Finn wasn’t the first to see that the First Order was wrong and just - leave - he knew there were other defectors. 

Those who left the First Order though, tended to be officers, not ‘troopers, people whose money or connections could protect them from retribution. Despite Finn could see in hindsight that he had probably been on an officer-candidate’s track, he had still been trained to think of himself as little more than a meat-droid, born to die for the glory of the First Order. And he had neither money nor connections to protect him, especially since he’d taken up arms _against_ the First Order.

“Hey Finn, I’m guessing you’re lost,” one of the ‘troopers said, and there was a kindness to his tone that Finn had never heard from another ‘trooper. Nearby another ‘trooper snickered quietly. 

“Uh - yeah,” Finn said carefully. “My intel said this base was abandoned, I was just doing a recon for the General.”

“Wow, we’ve got to remember that one,” one of them said quietly. “Recon.”

“Shut up Fives,” the kind ‘trooper said, but his voice came through clearly amused, even through the helmet mics. “Don’t mind him. Fives thinks he’s clever or something.”

“Jesse,” the ‘trooper identified as ‘Fives’ whinged, and the officer clapped Finn on the shoulder. Finn set the markings on their armour to memory - Jesse’s helmet was marked with what looked like the spoked wheel of the Old Republic, Fives’ with a graphic in blue and red that Finn couldn’t quite make into a recognizable shape. He’d remember it though. The officer’s helmet was marked with - tooka ears maybe? - above the eye slit.

“Come on Finn, let’s get you to Kix, once you’ve been through your intake we’ll find you a bunk,” the officer said. “I’m amazed you were able to get through the cordon, I’ll have to speak with the sergeant.” 

One of the others snickered quietly, but not unkindly at the idea of the sergeant getting a talking to. Finn could understand that - poor security meant losses, and unexplained losses were unacceptable. They might be trained to die for the First Order, but only on the First Order’s say so - and everyone was always happy when someone else was getting read their infractions, so long as they were in the clear themselves.

Finn didn’t argue; he was outnumbered, and he could see the competency in every move the ‘troopers made. He’d have to sneak back out, provided he didn’t get locked up or shot as soon as he took off his bucket. But to fight these men - to attempt to gun them down without warning - it would not only be suicidal, it went against everything Finn was trying to be. Killing without thought, acting without compassion - that was what the First Order had wanted him to be. That was everything he had aligned himself against.

“Hey Kix,” the officer called as he ushered Finn into what was clearly a medical suite. Stripped down and functional, but medical just the same. Finn’s heart began to race in his chest. Not good. If they drugged him he wouldn’t be able to fight, wouldn’t be able to escape. 

“Captain,” the medic - Kix evidently - greeted. 

“Got an off-schedule shiny, standard intake,” the Captain directed. Captain. The pauldron made sense then, that was fairly standard. 

“Alright shiny, face off,” Kix commanded, and Finn blinked a moment before realizing that by ‘shiny’ they meant _him_ , and by ‘face’ the medic meant helmet. Swallowing thickly, Finn complied. 

“I lied, not standard intake,” the Captain said, the medic’s eyes widening. 

“No kidding, Sir,” Kix said quietly. “You have a name kid? Where’d you get that armour?”

“Name’s Finn,” he said, jutting his chin up just a little in defiant pride. “FN-2187, formerly Starkiller Base. The armour - well. He didn’t need it anymore.”

“FN - you’ve gotta be kriffin’ me. Kid, who put you up to this?” the Captain asked, taking off his own helmet. Finn blinked, then blinked again. They were identical. The medic and the Captain were identical. Sure, their hair was styled differently and they didn’t carry themselves in quite the same manner, but - they were identical. Brown skin a few shades lighter than his own, amber brown eyes, the same sharp cheekbones and broad mouth. Identical. Finn had heard that such was possible, but he’d never actually seen it with his own eyes. 

“I told you, my General sent me on a recon,” Finn said firmly, and Kix and Rex traded a look. 

“Which General do you report to?” the Captain asked almost gently.

“Organa,” Finn replied, wrinkling his brow slightly. There weren’t that many Resistance Generals left after the destruction of the Hosnian system, and everyone seemed to know about General Organa’s ‘pet stormtrooper.’ The Captain and the medic exchanged another look. Maybe Finn had found the one place no one actually had heard of his defection. 

“Right. Well, Kix is going to do your intake, I’ll find you standard armour. If anyone else asks, give them your name first, and you’re CT-2187 if they press. Kriffing hells,” the Captain grumbled, then stalked off muttering under his breath. 

“Right,” Kix said. “My standards are based on vode physiology, so you’re probably not going to fit any of my ranges. This’ll be fun.” Kix was either lying, or had a very strange idea of ‘fun,’ Finn decided later. He’d probably lost more blood to the medic than he did fighting Kylo fripping Ren. “Here, sit still,” Kix said after a while and handed Finn a datapad. 

Finn blinked, surprised they’d trust him with a ‘net accessible device. And then he scrolled through the menu and realized the functions were so limited it might as well have been produced a half century before the ‘pad he had left back at base. Still, there were mission reports easily accessible, so Finn could at least get an idea what sort of fighters he had fallen in with. 

Not even halfway through the first report, Finn decided Kix was pranking him. It was the strangest prank Finn had ever been subjected to, and that was saying something given he hung out with a bunch of pilots. But the report was talking about Jedi. _Multiple_ Jedi. And yes, one of them was Skywalker, which he had half expected, but - Skywalker had never been a General. A Commander, and to hear Poe talk about it one of the luckiest pilots in the black, but not a General. Something - something _weird_ was happening.

Not for the first time, Finn mentally bemoaned the information restrictions the First Order had operated under. His mental training was tactics, procedure, and propaganda. Since waking up at the Rebel base, he’d read just about anything he could get his hands on, not only closing gaps in his education, but also amusing himself during the long hours of his enforced bedrest. He’d even been given access to intel reports, after a while. 

Quite frequently though, Finn had heard General Organa bemoaning the loss of information during the rise of the Empire, and during the Reformation of the Republic. From what he’d gleaned, the old Jedi had kept massive repositories of knowledge, and all that and more had been lost when the Emperor came to power. Even more had been banned or purged during the Emperor’s reign. He didn’t doubt much had been lost with the Hosnian system too, as the New Republic capital was likely the repository for a lot of information.

“By the Fett,” Kix swore, taking in the thick rope of scar tissue all but bisecting his new patient’s torso. Finn’s back muscles tensed as he looked up from the ‘pad, broad shoulders bunching with tension. Kix shook his head. Only one thing cut like that. “You run afoul of a Sith or something?” he asked, trying to figure how Finn had survived such a wound. 

“Sith?” Finn asked, understanding from tone alone that a Sith was likely nothing good. 

“Sort of like a Jedi, but with a red bladed ‘saber. Usually trying to kill all of us poor brothers and the Jedi, unless they’re flirting with General Kenobi,” Kix said. Finn might not know anybody named Kenobi - although it sounded familiar - but otherwise that fit Ren like custom armour. ‘Troopers on missions with Ren or his Knights died at an alarmingly disproportionate rate.

“Yeah, guess I did. Didn’t know there was a technical term for _homicidal maniac that thinks ‘troopers are a good place to extinguish his blade_ ,” Finn grit out, fear and anger still roiling at the thought of Ren, and the injuries the Sith - he’d have to remember that word for Rey - had done to Finn’s friends. Kix scoffed, then clapped Finn on the shoulder. 

“I want to put you through the imager, I’m guessing they had to reconstruct your spine, but other than that, you seem in fine fitness. I’d like to keep you overnight just to make sure though,” the medic said, peeling off his gloves. 

“That’s fine. Rest of my blacks off?” Finn asked, reaching for the waistband of his compression shorts. Kix nodded, and Finn stripped to the skin, then followed to the imaging machine. Like the datapad, it appeared old and clunky, and Finn had a strong suspicion that these brothers had been in hiding for a while. Was the information he was reading on the ‘pad even up to date? He pushed that worry aside. He had to stay alive first, and for the moment, that meant keeping his head down just in case these ‘troopers turned out to be First Order loyalists after all. 

Kix directed Finn to the ‘fresher with a set of infirmary fatigues, a loose tunic and leggings that were easy to climb in and out of when injured. By the time the kid had a run through the sonics and got dressed, Kix had some of the bloods back. A few anomalies when compared to a Kamino-bred and raised brother, but nothing too alarming when Kix got the bright idea to pull the files on a few of the Generals that were listed as human.

* * *

“So I’m guessing he’s not really a shiny,” Rex said thoughtfully that night when he, Kix, and the others who had met Finn gathered together. 

“Definitely not a shiny. And he’s one of us, even if he doesn’t look like it or you know - come out of a tube on Kamino,” Kix said. “He’s probably pouch-born, the navel structure is different on them, but I would wager he could pass any of the tests they put us through.” 

“He probably won’t fit quite right in the armour, he’s built bulkier than we are, but that can be worked around,” Jesse said thoughtfully. 

“We’re keeping him, right?” Fives asked, the question none of them had been willing to raise yet. “I mean, he’s a brother even if he isn’t technically vode.”

“Yeah, he’ll stay with us,” Rex said fondly, gently clapping Fives on the head. “It wouldn’t be right to leave a brother alone in the world.”

“We’ll get to work fitting a set of armour for him,” Jesse volunteered. 

“I’ll pass word,” Fives said with a grin, and the others nodded bemusedly. 

In the morning, Finn found himself fussed over by the medic, then given an armourweave undersuit marked with - he blinked, then squinted. _Republic_ he identified. _Old_ Republic. The mostly open eight-spoked wheel symbol had been phased out decades ago, replaced at first with the darker six-spoked cog of the Empire, later with the modified starbird of the New Republic. The First Order had used a many-spoked cog set into a hexagon as their sigil, and Finn was pleased to find little similarity between the two, save perhaps the fact that there was a spoked-wheel central to the design. 

If these ‘troopers were using the symbol of the Old Republic - honestly he was a little amazed at their brazenness. The base was out in the Outer Rim yes, but the sheer gall of defecting and going not to the Resistance, not even to the New Republic, but isolating themselves and wearing Old Republic symbols - he honestly had no idea what could have motivated them. He’d thought the marking on the ‘troopers helmet the day before an aesthetic choice, not a declaration of loyalty.

Finn would learn what he could, he determined, and keep his mouth closed as much as possible. They clearly hadn’t recognized General Organa’s name, so there was no saying how long they’d been isolated out here. He would need to pay attention to figure out how best to escape without sacrificing the safety of these ‘troopers. They weren’t his enemies. 

“Oh,” Finn said quite suddenly one day as they were tending their armour. The brothers around him looked over in mild curiosity. “Clones,” Finn said, “I can’t believe - you guys are clones.” A number of impossibilities flitted through his mind, and he had to accept one of them as fact, simply because nothing else made any sense. He was in the past. He was _in_ the Old Republic, and it was simply the Republic as yet, with Empire and Restoration yet to come. 

“I mean, we prefer vode,” Jesse said.

“Or brother,” Echo piped up.

“But yeah, clones,” Jesse finished, as if Echo hadn't interrupted him. 

“What, you thought we were all born this handsome by chance?” Fives scoffed, and Finn chuckled along with the others, mind still reeling to process his realization.

“No, it's just-” Finn started, then paused. How did you tell a man he was destined to betray the cause for which he fought? How did you tell a man he'd likely be killed within the next few years? “Where I’m from cloning’s been illegal for - decades,” Finn settled on telling them. “At first I thought maybe you were just, like, the biggest IVF batch ever, but there would be more variation. And sisters, unless they controlled for that.”

“Well, we are born in batches,” one of the vode teased, and Finn chuckled again to hide his unease. These were clones, soldiers of the Old Republic. Which meant - kriff. Empire followed Old Republic, and the changeover had been - violent to say the least. General Organa had only been a baby then, Finn knew, trying to remember more. 

The General’s father - not Skywalker, but Organa, the father she claimed, the one who had loved her and raised her - had been a Senator. That was why the others had been confused at first, Finn thought. They knew the Organa name as a Senator, not the General of the Resistance. 

Finn tried to remember what else he knew about the fall of the Republic. Most of it, he knew, was tinged with First Order propaganda meant to paint the Empire in the best light. The rebirth of the Empire, after all, was the First Order’s core belief and reason for existence. That was reason enough in Finn’s mind to dread what the Empire had been - what it might yet come to be in this strange world he found himself in. 

_Jedi Traitors_ , Finn’s mind whispered, and he remembered that propaganda reel well. An age distorted holo of two men fighting with lightsabers, flickering in and out of the receptors ability to record their movements. One of them tall and strong and healthy looking, the Jedi Master Mace Windu, who the First Order named a traitor, and who General Organa had named one of the Jedi High Generals of the Clone Wars, a man still remembered fondly as the Hammer of Ryloth, even fifty years later. Even as a ‘trooper, there had been a quiet little voice in Finn that mourned the fall of a man of such incredible fighting ability. The other was the Emperor, the first and last Emperor of the Galactic Empire, and a monster that made Kylo Ren look like a child having a tantrum. At least Ren never threw lightning out of his hand at people.

There had been something - something about how they switched from clonetroopers to stormtroopers that was important, Finn thought. It had been dressed up in the massive casualty numbers from the end of the war, but there had been - he fought down an agitated curse. He would remember, because it was important. He had to remember. Partly, he thought it was economics - it was expensive to buy a purpose-grown army of clones. But he was certain there was more to it than that. 

Why then, had the Empire switched almost wholly to natural born ‘troopers? Finn knew they had, because those records at least were easily accessible. The First Order was more than happy to advertise how they had taken the wreckage of the Empire and built upon it. They had taken the original Stormtrooper training and reformatted those academies into the ‘trooper indoctrination program in which Finn himself had been raised. 

From what Finn was piecing together from the stories of Kamino, there were similarities to his own indoctrination and training, but also vast differences. Neither the clones nor the ‘troopers Finn had been raised with though, ever had any choice in what they wanted to do with their lives. In quieter whispers, stories passed through the barracks, brothers who had gone missing but never accounted for as dead, and how some of the Generals quietly looked the other way when men ghosted from the ranks, leaving empty bunks behind. 

As the weeks passed, Finn learned all he could as they shifted from base to ship to battle then shipboard again. It would be easy enough to slip away, he thought, but what would he do then? He’d be lost and alone and at least twenty years before his own birth. Better he stick with the ‘troopers - the vode. He might get shot, he might get killed. But he also just might learn something important about the Old Republic, something that could _help_. And frankly, unless he figured out how to get back to his own time, he had nothing better to do and he was excellent at shooting droids. 

Figuring out how to get to his own time - well, Finn was utterly unsure where to even start with that task. He didn’t know how he’d fallen into the past to start with. From the shenanigans Finn heard attributed to the Generals, he imagined the Force had something to do with it, although what the Force wanted with Finn he couldn’t even begin to imagine. He’d held his own against Ren well enough, he supposed, but from the sounds of it, it didn’t take the Force to wield a lightsaber, although that certainly made it easier. 

The more action Finn saw under the command of General Skywalker, the more Finn began to recognize certain things. Jedi - the rare times Finn saw them - fought like the Knights of Ren, dashing ahead of the troops in showy advances, lightsabers flaring as both offense and defense. Even the formations they used were familiar, indicating that despite that the cloned soldiers hadn’t survived, much of their tactics had. 

Had the Jedi come up with these formations, Finn would wonder some nights in his rack. Did they know how many ‘troopers they sacrificed in their advances? Did it matter? Were the Jedi as heartless as the First Order’s inherited Empire biases claimed? Finn didn’t want to believe it, but vode died by the hundreds - the thousands - the _tens_ of thousands almost every time they went into battle. 

Was Master Skywalker like this? Finn wondered, remembering the holos of General Skywalker blazing through a battalion of droids - he had only seen the General in passing, although he did seem to spend time among the men. Was this what Rey would be learning at Master Skywalker’s side? Suddenly Jedi training didn’t seem so exciting - more like a good way to get killed, and he’d seen enough of that with the First Order. 

Of the Jedi, Finn saw Commander Tano the most. She was down among the men more than the Generals were, more than any of the other Padawan Commanders. The first time he had seen her, Finn had been more than glad of his helmet. While he’d become more used to seeing non-human sentients around with the Resistance, he still didn’t quite expect to see them, and especially not in command. The trouble was of course, that as much as he admired her skills and tenacity, Tano was as nuts as Skywalker. He thought she’d get on with General Organa fairly well though.

“Hey Finn, you know any piloting?” one of the troopers called one day. Finn glanced over. Striker, one of the vode in Shadow Squadron.

“Nah,” Finn called back. “Gunner. Why, what’s up?”

“Inspections coming through, it would be easier to hide you in another battalion while they’re inspecting us, then transfer you back,” one of the other vode of Shadow squadron said. Tag, Finn remembered. 

“We’re meeting up with the 91st before then, they’re not too pilot heavy,” Broadside suggested. 

“You think General Windu won’t notice him? We’ve only been able to hide him this long because we’re at the tip of the spear so our casualty numbers are _osik_ ,” Contrail argued. “Who else are we riding with.”

“Cody,” Tag said dryly, and the other vode groaned. It took Finn a moment, and then he grimaced too. Cody meant Commander Cody, who was to Finn’s knowledge one of the highest ranked of the vode, Marshall Commander in charge of the Third Systems Army and 7th Sky Corps, the second in command to General Kenobi. Kenobi, who Finn had finally remembered as the Jedi who had trained _both_ Skywalkers, from what General Organa had said. Frankly, it didn’t sound like a terribly safe place to be. But an inspection would surely catch him out. 

“Which is less likely to find me?” Finn asked. 

“Honestly, they’re both good Generals from what I hear, which is actually - well, not good in this case,” Tag said, and the others nodded. Finn did too, understanding. A good General as the vode considered these things got to know their troops, cared about them, spent time with them. The sort of thing that would get Finn noticed much more quickly. It was likely they had a fairly good ratio of men surviving battles too, which meant it would be harder to sneak Finn in. Only the high turnover in the 501st had kept General Skywalker from noticing Finn yet, since Skywalker was usually accompanied by Rex and the veteran Torrent Company.

In the end, Finn transferred to the 41st Elite Corps under General Luminara Unduli and Padawan Commander Barriss Offee just a little before the inspection of the 501st, various vode reaching out to brothers in other companies to finesse the flimsiwork necessary. As Finn was still wearing unmarked white armour, he at least didn’t have to scour 501st blue off his gear before he arrived. 

After reporting in to Clone Commander Gree, Finn was settled into a bunk. Scuttlebut about the ‘irregular’ swiftly made the circuit, although the vode were welcoming as a whole. Still, to them the idea of a natural-born able to fight at clone standards was something that had to be seen to be believed. Finn clocked a lot of hours on the range and in the ring, both practicing and competing with the vode. General Unduli wasn’t a bad leader, but she was distant, and Commander Offee was a Healer, so she spent all her spare time in the medbay. As long as Finn didn’t get hurt, he’d likely be fine. Eventually, General Unduli’s troops came due for inspection. Once again, Finn’s information was finessed. This time, he ended up in the 21st Nova Corps of General Ki-Adi-Mundi.

Mundi was another good if somewhat distant General, a decent tactician but one who didn’t mingle much with the men. With the 21st Nova, Finn could relax a little, not as paranoid that someone would see him without his bucket on and start asking awkward questions. He kept up his driven self-education program, reading all he could about the history of the Republic, the Jedi, military tactics, representative governance and a host of other things. He couldn’t believe he’d been dropped into the past for no reason whatsoever, but he still needed to figure out what that reason was. 

When Finn shifted battalions again, he happily landed back with the 501st. Vader’s Fist, they had been called under the Empire, the elite troops who answered to Lord Vader alone. In this time period, while they were certainly an elite battalion, and had a certain cache from serving under ‘The Hero with No Fear’ as the holopress had dubbed Skywalker, they weren’t infamous in the same way Vader’s Fist had been. There had been no Imperial unit more feared, and the death rates had been catastrophic, the ‘troopers of the Fist fanatically loyal to Vader and willing to follow him against insurmountable odds.

Having met the brothers of the 501st when he first arrived, Finn settled back in amongst them fairly easily. There were a few actual shinies that needed to have Finn’s situation explained to them, but they were all willing to play along. Some of the shinies asked Finn questions, but the more experienced ‘troopers fended them off. Finn was glad - he wasn’t sure how to answer without giving everything away. And he was invested now too, in finding out all he could, seeing if he could prevent the Empire that gave birth to the First Order.


End file.
